At the Brink

by Anna del Mar

  “Handsome and modest,” Mac said. “What else could a girl want?”

  “I’m going to get our food.” I stood up. “You guys know the drill. No war stories and no gossip either. I’ll be listening, so keep your mouths shut and don’t make me have to beat the crap out of you.”

  “No sir, no stories or gossip, only jokes then,” Mac said. “Did Josh ever tell you about the time Baez here got stuck in the latrine?”

  I stomped over to the bar and ordered another round of drinks to take back with the food. Despite the loud music, I kept my ear on the table. I didn’t want Lily hearing any bullshit.

  “Oh, he’s an engineer all right,” Mac said as I asked the bartender to rush my order. “Remember the time he single-handedly repaired the M777 howitzer?”

  “Good one,” Baez said. “We timed it. Two minutes and thirteen seconds.”

  “We were doing recon for the Marines in Afghanistan,” Mac said. “We’d just turned over our position to a Marine element when all hell broke loose. So we’re under attack, right? Getting pounded, and we’ve got no air support or nothin’ coming. So the marines set up the big artillery gun, nine thousands pounds of titanium, the only thing standing between us and those fuckers trying to overrun us. They load up the Excaliburs and fire.”

  “What happened?” Lily said.

  “Fucking nothing happens,” Mac says. “The thing must have gotten banged up or something during transport. There’s the fucked-up crew, scratching their balls without a clue, their sergeant, tugging at his dick, and the Tangos crawling all over the mountain.”

  “So Josh marches right through a hail of rockets,” Baez said. “He gets in the marines’ faces and begins disassembling the piece of shit. And within a couple of minutes, he’s got the damn thing working, when none of the crew could. The guy’s a genius.”

  The food finally made an appearance. I loaded up the tray and made for the table, arriving just as Mac moved on to more dangerous territory. “You’re putting Lily to sleep.”

  “I’m not bored,” she piped up.

  “Josh might be mathematically gifted,” Mac said, grabbing a beer from the tray, “but he’s got other problems, man. He’s got the IQ of a genius and the EQ of a moron.”

  “EQ?” Lily asked.

  “Emotional quotient.”

  “Can you find something else to talk about?” I cracked the shell of one of the lobsters and scooped out the meat onto Lily’s plate. “All this blabbering about IQs and EQs is going to get you beat up.”

  “So wait,” Lily said, taking a bite of her food. “Were you with the SEALs when you went to the Middle East?”

  “Naval Special Warfare Development Group,” Mac said. “Top of the line stuff.”

  I cut Mac a look. “That’s enough.”

  “All right, I won’t talk ops anymore,” Mac said. “I’ll talk about you then. Do you know what made him such a good operator? It wasn’t his brawn or his brains, although I’m sure that helped. It was his stubbornness. The guy won’t quit. He’s stubborn, Lils, the most obtuse human being in the universe.”

  Lily lifted her glass and clinked it against Mac’s beer bottle. “I have to agree.”

  “And he’s got trust issues,” Baez added. “Man, this boy trusts nothing but his brain.”

  “Better than trusting his cock,” Mac muttered.

  I scoffed. “Shut up.”

  “He’s more like an idiot savant,” Baez said. “He’s the original Rain Man, but behind all that bluster, there’s a decent guy. He just doesn’t come out to play very often.”

  “But do you really want to know what his biggest hang up is?” Mac asked.

  “What?” Lily said, polishing off her plate.

  I rumbled. “Mac...”

  “The guy won’t dance,” Mac said. “You heard me right. He’s afraid of the dance floor. That hunk won’t get within range even if his life depended on it. If I were you, I’d drop him. Or, you could dance with me to make him insanely jealous.”

  The band played Train’s “Soul Sister” and Lily had been dancing in her chair. I nodded when she glanced at me and off she went to dance with Mac. She looked pretty, showing off her tan in a cream halter dress, framed by the white Christmas lights strung around the dance floor, laughing every time Mac demonstrated one of his signature moves.

  The way her hips swayed when she danced reminded me of the way she moved when I was in her, fluid and earnest. It struck me that I didn’t want her dancing with anyone but me, even if I didn’t dance. I had to make an effort to stay in my chair. It’d be no good to pick a fight with the only friends I had left. I hadn’t even liked that song...until today.

  “I’m getting some strange vibes here,” Baez said. “Like this girl has you wrapped around her little finger.”

  I grunted something obscene.

  Baez smiled. “I’m just saying.”

  “That jackass really likes to push my buttons.” I glared at Mac and took a sip of water, hoping it would cool me down.

  “Mac?” Baez scoffed. “He’s the best friend you’ll ever have.”

  “I know why you two came out here.”

  “Why is that, Kemosahbee?”

  “I don’t need an assist.”

  “To serve and protect, that’s our motto.”

  “That’s not our motto.”

  “Semper fi?”

  “Maybe Mac’s, but you were never a jarhead.”

  “Maybe I just like the Marine’s motto.” Baez smirked. “Did you have a nice time on the island this week?”

  “None of your goddamn business.”

  “I think you did.”

  “How the hell would you know?” I said. “I thought Mac was the marine-turned-detective.”

  “Thomas Stratton is pissed,” Baez said. “In the five years that I’ve worked for you, I’ve never seen you miss a single day of work. You wouldn’t have extended your trip if you weren’t having a very good time. You look as relaxed as I’ve ever seen you. You look almost rested.”

  Rested was a relative term, but Baez was right. Lying next to Lily, I’d gotten some good sleep and I did feel more relaxed.

  “It’s not just you giving out all of the right signals,” Baez said. “Look at her. I don’t know what you did to that girl, but she’s positively beaming.”

  What I had done to Lily wasn’t for discussion in any context. I contemplated the woman on the dance floor. Could Baez be right? Was Lily beaming because of her time with me? Or was she just happy because she was going home?

  “She’s very real,” Baez said. “It’d be nice if you kept her around for a change.”

  Little did Baez know that I’d already drunk the Kool-Aid.

  In fact, as Lily, Baez and I said good-bye to Mac and I drove the jeep to the airport, I pondered my newest problem. Lily was tied to me by a flimsy agreement that could be terminated at any time by technology’s progress. She was also married—and not well—to a man I loathed. The situation had never been ideal, but now it had gone from manageable to untenable. I needed to make some significant tactical adjustments.

  As Baez and I taxied out to the runway, my mood soured. Lily wouldn’t be around for the next two days. She was off on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Sure, she’d be on call, but on call wasn’t on hand, lying right next to me on the bed, chaise, couch, sand, or hammock.

  It was a rotten deal, even if I’d negotiated it myself.

  I knew that my behavior wasn’t logical or reasonable and yet as I unbuckled my seatbelt and left Baez in the cockpit to fly the plane, I had a fixed idea of what I had to do.

  She looked up from her magazine when I came out of the cockpit. I drew the curtains that separated the galley from the passenger compartment. Her eyes widened. She set aside the magazine. Her gaze met m
ine as I maneuvered the controls on the club chair’s arm. With a muted whirr, the chair swiveled around to face the aisle where I stood. I locked the seat in place and pushed the recline button, tilting the back down as far as it would go.

  Lily’s breath quickened when I tucked her hands under the seat belt and tightened the strap. I reached behind her neck, undid her halter top and freed her breasts. I didn’t stop to ogle. I pushed up her skirt and took off her lacy thong.

  She looked toward the curtains.

  “Nobody is stepping out of the cockpit, so help me God,” I said. “Now, spread your legs.”

  Her knees separated, but only a fraction of what I’d envisioned.

  “Come on,” I said. “Are you suddenly afraid of me?”

  “Afraid?” She shook her head. “No.”

  “Then what is it?”

  She looked away.

  “Don’t.” I caught her chin and met her eyes. “Why are you looking so spooked?”

  “Because...”

  “Why?”

  She took a deep breath. “Because, for some strange reason that I can’t comprehend, you matter to me.”

  CLEAR! Darkness struck. The fire burned in my heart. Suddenly there was light, and pain, pain so bad I wanted to die again. The helicopter’s engines roared and there was blood everywhere, dripping from the litter, pooling on the floor, smeared on the face and hands of the young corpsman working on me.

  “Dead man’s back,” he yelled. “Put the pedal to the metal!”

  He leaned over me. “You’re going to make it, Commander. You hear me? You’re going to live.”

  The flashback ended as abruptly as it began. I was back, standing in the aisle, struck mute and not just by the flashback’s familiar images.

  You matter to me.

  Jesus Christ. I could speak five different languages but not hers. So instead, I dragged her to the edge of the seat, pushed her legs apart and reached down to caress her.

  She was ready, always ready, for me.

  I unzipped my jeans and released my cock. It sprang from my groin like fucking Godzilla. Lily stared, shuddering. She didn’t speak my language either.

  “We’ve done this before,” I said. “Many times. Remember?”

  “I... I think you should blindfold me,” she mumbled. “Please?”

  “That would defeat the purpose.”

  “What purpose?”

  “I want you to remember,” I said. “This is the only gift I know how to give.”

  I chambered into her like a moly-coated bullet. I stroked her with my cock, deep and hard. Her eyes shut, her lips parted, her body quaked at my pace. Within moments, she was panting. Her breasts flailed and her ass chafed against the seat’s plush leather. Her feet flexed, her back arched, her hip bones jutted out. All the while she purred and groaned like the airplane humming beneath my feet.

  The pleasure I got from fucking her was more than I could handle. The jet’s subtle vibration added to the sensations thrilling my body. I had an urge to fill every inch of her sex with my cock, from wall to wall, from vulva to cervix. I grabbed her hips and splayed my fingers beneath her ass. With the next powerful thrust, my cock plunged all the way to the base.

  She yelped. “Josh!”

  The lewd sound of my balls smacking against her flesh filled the cabin. Christ, but she felt good. Nothing could have pried me away from her at that moment. The plane could crash and I wouldn’t care.

  “Tell me that you like the way I fuck you,” I said.

  “I like the way you fuck me.” She moaned. “No one has ever fucked me like you do.”

  “Tell me that you want me to fuck you every day and every night.”

  “Day and night.” She gasped. “All the time.”

  “Now ask me to fuck you senseless, Lily. Ask me to fuck you with all I’ve got.”

  “Senseless.” She could no longer string sentences together. “All you’ve got.”

  “You’re a good girl, Lily, an extraordinary fuck,” I rasped. “Tell me you want to be mine.”

  “I do,” she whimpered. “I want to be yours.”

  “You. Are. Mine. To have, to hold, to fuck. Understand?”

  “Yes,” she muttered. “Yes!”

  I cupped the back of her head and kissed her. Then, I quickened my pace and pushed her over the edge. Her groan gave way to the squeal that grew into an all-out cry. The little vein popped up on her temple. Her body arched with the powerful contraction that gripped my cock and would not let it go.

  “Mine,” I said, pouring into her, claiming her for good.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lily

  When I got home, my apartment seemed smaller. It felt emptier, too, as if the man who’d dropped me off earlier had stolen the bulk of my possessions. But everything I owned was there. The only thing missing was him.

  How could I miss him this much? I was a sane woman and a rational human being. I clearly understood the dangers of developing any kind of attachment to someone as hazardous to my person as Josh Lane was. It was the sex, I told myself, the intensity and frequency of it. My body had gotten used to those huge wallops of stimulation.

  I blamed Josh for my predicament. He had achieved all his goals with phenomenal success. Adaptation: I felt like a natural part of his life and he of mine. Habituation: I’d gotten so used to him that I couldn’t imagine my day without him. Acceptance: I’d freely given and willingly taken. I had come to terms with what he wanted and how he wanted it, and now I wanted it too.

  I recalled my conversation with his friends. I had a good sense for people, and Mac and Baez seemed like really good guys. They admired and respected Josh. But Mac and Baez’s presence at The Lame Octopus was not coincidental. Evidently, Josh was supposed to have a protective detail at all times, except perhaps at the cove. But I also had a feeling that Josh’s friends had come to check me out. I must have passed muster, because they had shared with me a glimpse of Josh’s life before Phoenix Prime. It was almost as if they wanted to sell Josh Lane to me. How crazy was that?

  I thought about the trip back and the mind-blowing sex we’d had in the plane. God, the things he’d said, the things he’d made me say.

  I might be really wrong, but he wasn’t acting like a guy who wanted to move on. He didn’t look bored, repulsed or indifferent. I knew that sex was different from affection, but my instincts told me that, in this case, there was a lot of the latter in the former.

  But there was his need for control. His preference to blindfold me and restrain my hands. His reluctance to expose his body. The way he always kept his clothes on, especially when I wasn’t blindfolded. His precise instructions. His fondness for preparation. His unwillingness to talk about his time in the military. The abrupt ending to a career he loved. The way he reacted strongly to certain things I said...

  I was pretty sure that Josh Lane had gone to great lengths to hide things from me. I was convinced that he’d been hurt or experienced some trauma while he was a SEAL. But he was also brilliant, because he relied on his sexual proclivities to conceal his scars both mental and physical. And now I knew he had secrets.

  My phone chimed, announcing Josh’s eleventh text message in the thirty minutes since he’d dropped me off.

  In bed yet?

  Thinking, I texted back.

  About?

  The week.

  The fucking?

  Everything.

  The fucking was great.

  I had to smile. I can’t stop thinking about you.

  Ditto.

  I want you to know something.

  ?

  You made me feel safe this week. Strange, I know, but if you haven’t noticed, I’m partly deranged.

  You’re not so far gone. I visuali
zed the sexy smirk on his face.

  LOL, I wrote. I want you to be naked with me.

  I was very naked with you.

  Not when I could see you. I mustered a burst of courage. Not when I could touch you.

  No reply.

  I won’t look if you don’t want me to, I typed. Promise.

  No reply again, not even a question mark. I won’t bring it up again.

  After a long pause, the screen lit up.

  Up the temp, he texted. It’s going to be cold tonight.

  K.

  I set the cell on my night table and sighed. I’d opened myself to him, but the sadness I sensed in him made my heart ache. He wasn’t ready to let me into his life.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Josh

  The only illumination in my bedroom came from the blue light issuing from my whirring laptop and the tablet propped up beside it. I had a lot of work to do, but little enthusiasm for it. The bed was wide and lonely, the room cold. Even the mattress felt hard and hostile to my aching bones. Staring at the phone’s screen, I re-read Lily’s texts.

  I forced myself to breathe through the panic. I’d been through much worse.

  “How do you feel, Commander?” I could hear the doctor in my mind. I remembered his little eyes hunting for reasons to keep me in that hospital a while longer, looking for a gesture or an unguarded word to cancel my release.

  “Excellent,” I said. “Ready to tackle the recovery phase, sir.”

  “I see you’ve got the lingo down,” the doctor said. “Your physical injuries are beginning to heal, son. But I feel like we didn’t make much progress during our sessions here.”

  “Don’t worry about me, doc,” I said, chewing on a plastic straw. “I’m a tough son of a bitch.”

  “That’s what you’ve been saying for three months straight.” The doctor shook his head. “Are you sure you’re ready to go?”

  “Ready as shit, sir.”

  “In that case,” he said, extending his hand, “Good luck to you. If you ever need to talk about what happened—”

  “Thanks, Doc.” I shook his hand. “I’ll be all right.”